


Fencing - Prequel

by MamaMystique



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Well almost, murder couple, sexy fencing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is treated to a surprise when he comes home early.</p><p>Another Tumblr murder couple fic that I am posting here from my blog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fencing - Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> I just love these two idiots and the idea of them being both terrifying and stupid together. Prompted (sort of) from a picture set I reblogged on Tumblr a while ago of Gillian Anderson in something that looked like a fencing outfit, and my brain now desperately wanting her and Hannibal to fence in season 3. This turned out as a prequel to the fic I actually plan to write.

Hannibal is not very often speechless. Even if he says nothing, there is a response forming in his mind, waiting to be said at a calculated moment. To be speechless is to be caught unaware, and Hannibal is almost too acutely aware of what happens around him. But every so often, in a very rare moment, Hannibal will find himself unguarded. 

He had returned early to their new home in Italy, inspiration striking him as he returned from his studies on Dante. There was to be a proving, of sorts, in two weeks, and though Hannibal had every detail catalogued in his mind, he decided it was best if he find the most relevant images. The library within his new residence held a particularly interesting text, so he broke his routine in order to collect it. 

Inside it was dark, reminiscent of a great, abandoned library. He had worried she would hate it, that she would complain about the smell or the way only the faintest of light could peek in, but he had forgotten that she spent her whole life behind heavy curtains. She had taken quite well to the great halls, adapting and becoming just as good as him at finding her way by candlelight. 

The hall upstairs leading to the actual library itself was surprisingly well-lit. It was immensely long, a row of great, glass windows trailing from one end to the other. Here is where he found her, rapier in hand, performing a rather wonderful semicircular parry. 

Bedelia had always looked quite elegant, no matter if she was entertaining guests, helping him go through their newly inherited collection, or trying to cut through a particularly difficult bone. Here she was no exception, her hair pulled into a low ponytail that still curled and rested on her shoulder, her outfit sleek and black. 

She turned to him, pulling herself into a preparation stance, eyeing him as he watched her from the stairs. She twisted the blade, swishing it through the air, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, remaining transfixed by her graceful movements and how she danced with the blade, she filled the silence herself.

“I spied it next to a display case. The blade is slightly bent, and unforgivably dull.”

Hannibal ascended the rest of the stairs, standing away from her. Though he easily towered over Bedelia, she never cowered. She had once or twice before, but that was prior to their escape together, prior to her forcing him to break the walls he had built in regards to her. The transition was difficult, and Bedelia was quick to adapt. Hannibal found himself clawing after her in regards to their evolving relationship, but learning fast. 

“I didn’t know you were so adept with a blade.” He manages that, and she smiles.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me Hannibal. But then again, our previous relationship focused around you. As it should have, at the time.”

“And now?”

“Now,” she said easily, holding the rapier in her delicate hands, studying it, “we’ve established that we have moved beyond that. I will take from you exactly as much as I give. And I expect you to do the same.”

“Am I under contract?” He teased her, flashing his teeth.

“Last week, under the scrutiny of our latest dinner guest, you said I was your wife. What is marriage if not a contract?”

Hannibal smiled, understanding her approach. “Our lies sometimes disguise our wants.”

“I am not your wife, Hannibal. And I don’t want to be, nor do I sense that you want that either. Such a thing is trivial between us.”

“You are my partner,” he said, and he meant it. The last dinner guest in question now resided in cuts in their shared kitchen. Bedelia had been more than eager to help him, to perch over his shoulder and loan a free hand to help keep a difficult piece in place. She had not killed, but he could sense her growing interest. Whether it was forced or genuine, Hannibal didn’t care. He could sense his own blindness to her, and could only hope that it wouldn’t overtake him. But Bedelia wielded herself with perfection, knew just where to strike him. He had no idea where to begin with her now.

Bedelia gave the blade a final swish with a flick of her wrist. “To answer your actual question, I began fencing in high school. I was captain of the college team for three years until I was thrown out for taking out our supervisor’s right eye. He continued to make advances on me, and I warned him. When he wouldn’t listen, I visited him one night with a dulled practice blade. I was a top student, and he was still regarded as an essential professor, so it was kept under wraps. I continue to practice, and there is a lovely set of rapiers still at my house that I miss dearly.”

Hannibal smiled at her as her cold blue eyes fixated on him, imagining a younger version of her working with such precision to spear and remove a man’s eye. Pride swelled in his chest. “I will see what I can do.”

Bedelia held the blade behind her back, approaching him. “Thank you.” She leaned up on her toes, kissing him gently as she pressed herself against his chest. It was strangely domestic for both of them, and yet Hannibal couldn’t help returning her smile when she pulled away.

“You’re home early,” she finally quipped as he pressed his hand to her cheek. His fingers dropped to tangle in her hair.

“I thought of a text we had that contained a spectacular image for my presentation.”

“Which one?” She asked curiously, having spent enough time in their library to rival him, the catalogue of her brain ready.

Hannibal’s tongue flickered across his lips as he tilted his head. “I cannot remember.”

Bedelia laughed then, bearing her teeth, and she was a sight to behold. Hannibal swept her up and against his chest as her legs wrapped around him automatically, her shoulders still shaking with giggles. 

“This is serious, Bedelia,” he spoke, feigning his intensity. “You’ll have to help me.”

She tossed her head back as he carried her down the hall, the opposite direction of the library, but the correct direction of the master bedroom they now shared. “You’re going the wrong way! Hannibal!” She gasped with breathy laughter as he growled and nipped her shoulder. The blade clattered to the floor from her hands, and she wrapped her arms to grasp at his neck and back. “Hannibal!” She shrieked, “If you drop me again-”

Her threats were cut off as he pressed her back against the wall, kissing her fiercely as his hand fumbled with the doorknob. She dragged her teeth across his lips as she maneuvered her hand to help his. The door fell open, and they quickly swept into the room, Bedelia slamming the door behind them.


End file.
